So then last night I had a dream that I was out traveling somewhere and wore a pair of pants. Not even good pants, acid washed yellowy splotchy tight pants. I felt comfortable, but I felt unending guilt about it and was walking across this log in a swamp (no idea where) and was mentally writing my formal apology and confession to you, my No Pants supporters.

Ok brain, what is it you think I need to confess here? Or do you just doubt my resolve to be pants-free, baby-free, and swamp-free for at least one year?

I promise I have not worn pants. Well, jammy pants and leggings as pants around the house. But those don’t count, they aren’t actually pants at all and would never count outside of the home as appropriate clothing. So I feel no shame.